Unhallowed Desires
by FairyTale87
Summary: Sequel to Unholiest of Tortures. One month after UOT, Damon has left town, Elena is coping, and Katherine is plotting her revenge with the help of Klaus' daughter...
1. Of Moving On and Holding On

_November 3, 2011_

_Isn't time supposed to help? Is it not supposed to mend wounds, and calm rampant minds? All time has seemed to do is mess everything up. I guess it has to change things—I'll live with that. But take away life as I've always known it? I don't think that's fair. How could it be? Time is supposed to be on my side—or so I stupidly believed. Life's made me so cynical; happiness even seems like a scheme of the devil. How awful is that? I can't understand why. What happened to happily ever after? I'm just spinning my head in circles, I suppose; maybe there's no answer to any of these questions. I don't know—I don't know what I'm even saying anymore. I don't know who I am, anymore. _

Elena tapped her pencil against her notebook, staring at the marked-up paper. Her words seemed pointless on the page—it could be used for something so much better. But here it was, being filled with the jumbled thoughts of a teenager and her problems. Staring at the words, Elena realized she couldn't even admit to herself what she was even venting about. Her cryptic words and carefully thrown-together sentences didn't even begin to voice the raging emotions swirling inside her. Sinking her elbows into her Indian-crossed legs, she ran her fingers through her hair. Elena knew what was bothering her; what had been plaguing her for months, but she couldn't come to terms with it. If she did, that would mean she had given into the very truth she never wanted to see true.

Damon.

That was her problem. The root of all her strife and pain. He had told Elena forever—she had believed him. But then damned time had to go and twist Damon's mind into recessive submission, and steal him away from her; pulling him back into the life he had lived before they met. Why?

It doesn't matter, it matters entirely.

Paradoxes swarmed through Elena Gilbert's head, and she wanted to scream. To tear her hair right out of her skull, in attempt to let her inflating emotions free. Every breath she took was constricted; because of stress, of pain, of fear, of silent hope. Elena knew her feelings may be seen as overdramatic—_but who is to say what is dramatic and excessive? _she retaliated in her mind. Pressing her palm to her cheek, she tapped at her jaw with her thumb. She could feel her tense jaw grinding tooth against tooth, and she knew she had to stop this. Stop caring about Damon, stop worrying about his safety, stop thinking of him. Those blue eyes that sent her on mystical daydreams to grace-land, his midnight hair that somehow always fell right, no matter what the circumstance. She quit her tapping—staring out the window now, frozen.

"Elena?" It was Bonnie. Elena tightly shut her eyes. Why now, did she have to be here?" There came a knock at her doorframe, and Elena knew she couldn't leave Bonnie standing there. Clearing her dry throat, she lifted her head from her hands and turned to face Bonnie.

"Yeah," it was a lagging question, a dry form of hello. Bonnie shook her head slightly at her friend.

"It's been a month, Elena." She knew Bonnie was speaking of Damon. So what if it had been a month? That was far from justifying any point.

"I know," Elena replied vacantly, slightly shrugging her shoulders.

"You can't keep yourself locked up in your room for the rest of your life," Bonnie laughed mildly, "that's no way to move on. Come on, Elena, would it seriously kill you to experience life again?" Bonnie made her way over to Elena, sitting on the windowsill next to her.

"Maybe," Elena mumbled, "you never know."

"Okay, Elena, listen to me: I don't care how much you'll hate me, but I'm taking you out of this house. You, me, lunch; now." Bonnie had to be joking.

"What about you, me, lunch; later?" Elena groaned, leaning her head on the white wall behind her.

"Nope, now. Come on. This isn't healthy." Bonnie grabbed hold of Elena's hand, tugging her from her position on the windowsill. Finally on her feet, Elena reached for her pencil and notebook.

"Don't even think of bringing that," Bonnie warned, "you honestly can't have _that _many feelings you need to flesh out."

"Fine. But just know that if you were a psychologist, you'd be fired for cruelty."

"Consider this… radical therapy." Bonnie gave a little grin, and pulled her friend towards the door.

* * *

><p>"Well isn't this nice?" Bonnie cheerfully asked, sinking herself into her seat. Elena scanned the scene around her. Looking up, the sun was a white gold—she couldn't remember the last time she had been in this kind of warmth for longer than ten minutes. Figures danced and swarmed in the streets around her, and she felt oddly a part of life again.<p>

"Yeah, this is nice," Elena replied mildly. All she could think of, despite the commotion, was Damon. Was he safe? Was he happy? Was he, god forbid, in love? The last question sent her heart plummeting into her gut.

"When's the last time you were at Café Lemont?" Elena inwardly chuckled at the tacky French name, but said nothing on the subject.

"It's been a while," Elena replied, nonchalant. Bonnie said nothing in return. The girls sat in silence, sipping their waters as a distraction from the dead air.

"Do you ever think about them?" Bonnie quietly asked. Elena cocked her head.

"Think of who?" She felt her heart begin to pick up, pounding recklessly against her ribcage. Leave it to Bonnie to destroy the silence.

"Katherine and Stefan. I mean Stefan is gone—you loved him once; that must bother you at least a little. And Katherine's still out there… unnerving." What was Bonnie trying to do?

"Well—I—I don't know, I guess so, yeah." Elena shrugged. "Stefan was a part of my life, but he surely wasn't the love of it. He lost my love when he decided to side with Katherine."

"The memory, I'd think, would be enough to trigger at least some feelings towards his death." Bonnie's pestering remarks were doing a fantastic job at keeping her mind out of the realm of Damon.

"Of course I'm sad he's gone. Of course I am…" Elena paused. "I don't know, it's just that Stefan never really was mine. We both loved a dream of each other. So I can't say that I'm totally broken."

"Do you miss the dream Stefan?" Bonnie's voiced lowered. Elena sighed.

"Why are you asking me this, Bonnie? What happened to 'let's have a fun lunch'? Didn't you get me out of my house so I'd stop moping over the past?" Elena raised an eyebrow—much like Damon had done. Damn the marks he left on her.

"You've never told me any of your feelings about Katherine, Stefan, or even Damon—I just want to know. I can't help or distract you, if I don't know what I'm saving you from." Elena had to smile.

"Thanks, Bonnie, that's really sweet of you…"

"I feel a 'but' coming on. What is it, Elena?" Bonnie stared at her friend with mild amusement.

"But, I don't need to be 'saved' from these thoughts. I need them, so I can come to terms with them."

"Doesn't mean you don't need help though, Lena."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So Katherine—"

"Is not threat or worry of mine unless she makes herself one," Elena said shortly. She could feel her hands begin to tense.

"Understood." Elena knew Bonnie was dying to ask about Damon. It was an inevitable conversation.

"You can ask, if you want to," Elena mumbled in return.

Bonnie sighed, "alright. What happened with you and Damon? Everything seemed so—"

"Perfect? Yeah, I thought it was too. But apparently not. Ever since his brother died, Damon wasn't the same. His humor wasn't as keen or witty, his smile didn't have the same effect; he wasn't Damon. I don't know what he was, exactly. He stayed though," Elena smiled, "he was strong. He put his pain aside, and focused on the future; on me. But then one day, he just vanished. He left a note, but as you know, Damon isn't necessarily the best with words." Elena paused, inhaling deeply. She had to tell the story to someone—get it off of her chest. "He said that it had become too much. He couldn't live in a place that reminded him of his past. I can't say that I blame him, but I don't understand why he couldn't have taken me."

"It seems so unlike Damon to just give in." Bonnie's eyes tenderly looked at Elena.

"It was. But then again, so is everything Damon became after I saw him in 1861." Elena shrugged, and Bonnie nodded in quiet agreement. The witch wondered what would have been if she hadn't sent Elena into the past. Maybe her friend wouldn't be so broken.

"I'm sorry, Elena. It's all my fault. If hadn't had sent you into 1861, none of this would have happened." Bonnie looked to the table, pulling at her bread.

"Just because it turned out darkly, doesn't mean I regret it." Elena gave a soft smile, reaching her hand across the table to lightly pat Bonnie's.

"I still feel awful."

"Feel awful if you want, but know I don't blame you for anything. What happened is between me, Damon, and his emotions. Maybe it was inevitable that he'd leave. He was born for leaving."

"Maybe so, but Damon wasn't meant to leave you—that I know." Bonnie smiled, and Elena returned it sadly. If Bonnie was right, then where was her Damon? Why was he not here beside her?

* * *

><p>Damn my crazy imagination. I have like five multi-chapter stories I should be working on, and here I am starting the sequel to Unholiest of Tortures. I know this is short—consider it a previewa mild filler chapter of background information. Please give me any suggestions you have for where this story could go: I'd love to know what you think!

_Be good and review! _


	2. Of Memories and Heavy Rain

_November 6, 2011_

_I've been thinking about going back to the Boarding House. I don't know what good it will do, or what closure it will bring, but I feel I need to. I don't know—it might be a huge mistake. But I think it's one I'm willing to risk. I hope it's worth it. _

Elena placed her pen on her desk, and breathed heavily. She was really doing this; Elena Gilbert was going back to the Boarding House. Slowly sliding her chair back from the desk, she glanced around her room. It was too cute; far too innocent; and utterly dry without the touch of Damon Salvatore. As her thoughts clogged her mind, Elena subtly began to chain herself to her chair. Maybe she wasn't ready to face the Boarding House and all of its memories.

But the question was, would she ever truly be ready? She figured the answer to be no. Determination pounded in her chest, but she couldn't get it into her muscles—it resisted. Stiffly raising her body from her seat, she felt sick. Elena knew that the Boarding House was more than just a house. It symbolized every single memory she had had with the Salvatore brothers; and that terrified her. Breathing in and allowing all inhibitions to crumble, she walked out of her room, keys in hand.

* * *

><p>The looming building was overwhelming. The Tudor-esque outline and designs sent shivers down Elena's spine, and she felt herself afraid of the house. Afraid maybe wasn't the right word: tortured, more likely. Elena wringed her hands together, debating whether or not she should go in. A part of her wished Damon would creep into her mind again, and humorously taunt her for being too afraid. She waited, quietly, hopefully, to hear the Salvatore's deep and seductive voice, but she was met only with silence.<p>

Sighing, she tried to let the disappointment stay invisible on her features. Not that there was anyone to hide it from, but she still felt in the back of her mind that Damon was watching her. Elena couldn't let him see that she was so broken. She was keeping a strong face for someone who didn't even care—she felt her heart rust slightly from her inward tears.

_You can go in the house, Elena, it won't bite… _Elena forged Damon's voice in her head. She needed any bit of him she could get or reproduce. _As for the people who live in it, well—hopefully you're not too sweet. _

Elena smiled lightly; what she would give to hear those words straight from Damon's luxurious lips. She felt her heart rate pick up rapidly. Shaking the thought frantically away, Elena turned off the car, and got out shakily. Slamming the door closed with her back, Elena knew she had to go in. it was the only way she'd find some sort of closure.

* * *

><p>It had been too long since Elena had held the shining doorknob. Her wrist retaliated against turning it—because there was no Damon that would be waiting behind the door; not even Stefan. When she opened the door, all that would greet her would be dust, stagnant air, and all too familiar memories. Biting her lip and shrinking away slightly from the large wooden door, she quickly twisted the knob and watched the door fling open. Allowing the door to swing open a tad farther, Elena inched her way inside, kicking it closed. She didn't know exactly why she couldn't have just lightly shut it; maybe because the door symbolized her walking into the Salvatore brothers' lives. If she hadn't had done that, she wouldn't be so miserable—so alone. Running a set of fingers through her unusually tangled hair, she stared at the gloomy house. Elena couldn't even call it a home anymore—there was no attachment that wouldn't break her heart. Her feet felt foreign on the Persian carpets that swirled and swayed, danced and tangoed with elegance. How could it be that she had been here so often, but now the Boarding House felt like a movie set that could not be touched? No one answered, and Elena only figured such.<p>

* * *

><p>Making her way up the creaky wooden stairs, she knew the destination she was headed for: Damon's room. That's where it all started.<p>

Entering into the large bedchamber, Elena inhaled Damon's lingering scent. A musky pine filled Elena's nostrils, and she felt her insides melt. Out of pain, out of pleasure, out of love. If only she could compile those molecules into one and embrace it—it would give her even just a weak illusion of it being Damon. Sliding her shoes off, she drug her sock covered feet over the dark wooden floor. She wanted to memorize every bump, every dip, and every smooth floorboard. Elena's path led her to Damon's notorious closet—where she had found his diary all those months ago. Accept now, it was a bitter search into her lover's closet… his mysteries. Looking to the right corner, Elena knelt onto her knees and crawled her way into the closet, using her phone as a flashlight. Huddled in the deepest part of the corner lied a pile of books. Softly reaching for them, she almost expected a note. A note that would say:

_I knew your curious little eyes couldn't stay away for long. I'm sure these will fill their temptation for a while. _

But nothing of the sort was placed neatly on top of the aging papers. Pulling the notebook from the top, she held it delicately in her hands. It certainly did not feel as old or worn as the other journal Elena had read, but it was definitely as tainted. Whatever journal this was, it had to be from after Damon had turned. Feeling the leather on her sweaty palms, she caressed her fingertips over the deep brown cover. Elena knew she shouldn't open the journal. Whatever dark memories that lied inside, were sure to be brutal… dripping with blood and lust. But still Elena turned the cover.

_Property of Damon Salvatore _it read in perfect cursive, the inky thin words stabbing Elena like daggers. His writing still hasn't changed. His fingers still know exactly how to hold and curve the pen to produce elegant script the eyes simply plead to stare at. Turning the delicate and fading page over, Elena was met with a mess of words. Not what she would have guessed from a lethal and bloodthirsty killer. Biting her lower lip, Elena began to read.

_September 15, 1914_

_Pittsburgh is taunting this time of year. The weather changes so swiftly, I hardly have time to adjust. One moment the sun is sprinkling down from behind the thick mounds of gray smoke hovering in the air, and the next it is an utter downpour of heavy and chilled raindrops. I do not know what to think of this odd land. Pittsburgh is far from elegant, and nowhere near as kind as home. I am terribly ill from writing of home being more pleasant than this odd Pennsylvania world, but I sorrowfully find it true. I should be stronger. I have the endurance for this temperamental Pittsburgh, but only in body. My soul still pines for Virginia. Oh, how do I dare say that? Am I to be so weak that I cannot bare a life without the memories of Mystic Falls? Those years were not even kind to me—am I going mad? I fear that would not be far from the truth. The blood, though, is simply exquisite in this suffocated city. The taste lingers on my tongue so torturously, simply begging me to go and rip for more. I suppose I must pull on my mask of nonchalant death, and wreak havoc on the steel town I find myself in. My father would be most displeased with my actions, which makes it all the more worthwhile. _

Elena released the breath she had been holding in, and she felt her muscles tingle. Even when Damon had gone through his dark years, he still didn't want it—his humanity was still perfectly intact. Elena smiled at the fact, and concluded that this journal may not be as terribly gruesome as she had anticipated. Clutching the journal safely in her hand, Elena crawled from the closet, holding her phone between her teeth. Getting to her feet, Elena brushed the gray dust from her clothing with her free hand. As she did so, she subconsciously waited for someone to appear behind her. Her silent wish was not granted. Walking to her Converse, she slipped them back on her feet, sighing.

Exiting Damon's room with one final gaze, she swore to herself she would not turn back. She couldn't. This was to be goodbye.

Then why was she taking his diary? Elena chose not to reply to her inner thoughts, and made her way down the stairs, and quickly out of the door. Slamming it shut, she had to stop the tears from trickling down her face. The trauma of simply stepping physically back into the realm of Damon Salvatore was too much. Walking swiftly back to her car, she grasped the door handle and paused. Not looking at anything in particular, no solid current of thought streaming through her head. Why did this have to happen to her? Pulling the door open, Elena slid in and dug the key into the ignition.

* * *

><p>"Bonnie," Elena greeted as her friend answered the phone, "could you come over? I want to talk to you." Elena crossed her legs on her bed, and pulled her beige quilt over her chilled feet. Holding Damon's journal in her lap, she couldn't keep her eyes off of it. She feared it would be ripped from her just as Damon had been. But Elena was not about to let this book go. She didn't care what the consequence would be. (x)<p>

"You rang?" Bonnie smiled as she leaned in the doorframe. It had become normal for Bonnie to appear while Elena was dug deep in her room, and both girls quite liked it.

"Yeah, sit," Elena patted the space next to her, and Bonnie made her way over. As she did, she noticed the book in Elena's lap. Bonnie felt her heart slightly fall; what was Elena scheming?

"So what's up?" Bonnie inquired as she plopped next to Elena, crossing her legs as well. She was so relieved she had chosen to wear Yoga pants to this little get together.

"Okay, well, before I start, just… keep an open mind and remember that I'm not crazy." Elena gave a small yet forced smile.

"Duly noted," Bonnie replied somewhat dryly. Whatever Elena was about to say was not going to be good.

"Alright, well, I went to the Boarding House today." She paused, waiting to see if Bonnie would reply; she didn't. Elena continued, "and I found another one of Damon's journals…"

"Elena," Bonnie warned, tilting her head disappointedly to the side.

"Hear me out," Elena insisted. "This one is different; he's different. He's the same human teenager from the 1861 journal, but he's—more real in this one." Elena let a dreamy haze fall over her caramel eyes.

"What are you getting at, Elena?" Bonnie slunk her back slightly.

"I want you to send me to 1914…" Elena smiled at her friend hopefully. She knew this was crazy. She knew she should spend her time living life and letting Damon go. But this seemed oddly right to Elena; she couldn't ignore the signs.

"Elena!" Bonnie clutched her head. "No! It's November; which means school. And this is so unhealthy. You're not doing yourself any favors by going back in time to see Damon. Not only that, but in 1914, he's met Katherine already; what will he say of you? Do you know what all of this could do? Nothing good, Elena, nothing good." Bonnie was a flaring mess of crazed emotions.

"I don't care if it's not doing me any favors. It's Damon, Bonnie—he's worth it." Elena sighed.

"Are you blind? Damon left, Elena. He's probably not coming back. What do you expect going to 1914 to do? Trigger Damon's feelings for you? Make him enter your life again? It's not."

"But if he knew I had made contact with a past him, then… then maybe he'd come back." Elena shrugged her shoulders. She knew she was desperate and childish. She couldn't stop herself though.

"Damon left because his life was reminding him too much of his past. You're part of that past. He _left_."

"Stop saying that!" Elena pleaded with Bonnie, fighting the tears brewing in the corners of her eyes. "Stop saying that," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Elena," Bonnie replied softly, "you know it's true. I'm not going to let you obsess over someone and some idea you have to get over. Damon was a part of your life—great. But he's only a part. You're ruining your senior year; your happiness; your future. You can't let a guy control and take over your life like this."

Elena shook her head. She knew very well that Bonnie was right. "If you're not going to help, I'll find someone willing to." Elena's face was stone. What did Bonnie know of true love anyway?

"Listen to what you're saying. It's dangerous. To your sanity. To your future; to _everyone's _future. Just move on. Cope, but move on. It'll be for the best."

"Our views of 'best' are on the opposite sides of the world. Can't you just send me? I'll deal with the consequences." Elena crossed her arms. Couldn't Bonnie stop playing mother just this once?

"Elena," Bonnie replied uneasily, "this isn't just something you can jump into. It's dangerous."

"Does this look like the face of someone who cares? Please, just help me." Bonnie say the glistening tears in Elena's eyes and felt her defenses begin to collapse.

Bonnie breathed heavily. Was she really going to do this?

* * *

><p>One word: opinion. Should Bonnie agree? And if she does, what would you like to see happen once Elena enters into 1914 Pittsburgh? Sorry that it's a short chapter again. I just want to take this slow and nicely before diving into the story.<p>

_Be good and review!_


	3. Of Loss and the Past

Elena thought, staring at Bonnie. Did she truly want to travel to 1914? She remembered the last time—it was stressful; it was revealing; it brought her to Damon. Of course she wanted to go where Damon was; where she _knew _he would be. Yet something held her back. Elena should move on, she knew she should. And she would get closer to reaching that goal by not forcing Bonnie to send her through time. What would await her anyway, in 1914 Pittsburgh? Certainly not _her_ Damon; and most likely not the sweet gentleman she had met in 1861. Maybe time travelling wasn't the greatest of choices for Elena and her mending heart. Sighing deeply, she conjured up enough momentum to speak.

"Bonnie," Elena told her friend quietly, "I—I don't want you to send me to 1914." She rubbed her face heavily, blinking. "I don't know what I was expecting. What I was hoping. But you're right; Damon's gone. I should… accept that. There will be other guys, right? Men as kind, as knowledgeable, as funny—as stunning… there has to be." Elena wasn't even necessarily speaking to Bonnie anymore. Her scrambling mind of crazed and hazy emotions was far from healthy. Elena looked to her friend, hoping she would have some sort of practical or concrete words; words that would ease her swirling body.

"Lena, there will be guys like that if you allow there to be. There're seven billion people in this world; you've only touched a small number. I'm not saying that you have to forget Damon, but he's in the past. And that's fine to look back on, but dwelling in it won't help you at all." Bonnie gave a weak smile, reaching out her hand to softly touch Elena's. Bonnie knew her friend's strife. She wished and prayed that she could do something to end and mend it, but there was nothing. All of this was on Elena; she would ultimately make or break herself.

"I just feel like if I move on, head first into the future, I'll forget about Damon entirely; not do his memory justice. I've lost so many people, Bonnie. I just don't know if I can let go of Damon—not yet." Elena shook her head, attempting to keep her cry deep in her throat.

"Don't use your love for Damon as a crutch. _That _wouldn't be doing him justice. Elena, he'd want you to move on. So would your parents and Stefan. You deserve to be happy." Bonnie supplied her friend with a genuine smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She hated acting like Elena's mother or psychologist, but that's what the young Gilbert needed; whether she wanted it or not.

"Every time I'm finally happy, things and people are taken from me. I'm paranoid. If I stay in the dark though, and in the past, then I'll never get hurt by my future losses. I won't have them."

"I get your logic, but you'll only hurt yourself that way. Don't be the person who thrives in the past. I know it's hard to stay strong after so much has happened, but you need to. If you don't, what will your life be? A vacant mess of memories long gone." Bonnie subtly bit her lip. She knew she was close to crossing a line Elena had firmly placed.

"I know you're right, Bonnie. I won't try and deny that. And I will move on, okay? I promise you. Just—I can't right now." Elena could feel her heart begin to split slightly. Why couldn't Damon just let her be? He left to escape his past… how did he not know that his actions would forever taint hers? How could escape be stronger than love?

"You don't have to promise me," Bonnie lectured softly.

"But I'm going to. I need something solid right now, that won't break. You, and a promise I make to you will fit that. Bonnie, I can't be strong right now. I hate admitting that, but the first step to recovery is admitting, right? Look. No matter how you hated Damon, or how you hate what he's done to me, I still love him. I'll learn to live without him eventually. But for now I need a friend who I can vent to about a boyfriend. Let's be teenagers tonight, okay?" Elena laughed lightly. She needed Bonnie; needed innocence. Why did she have to grow up so fast?

"I like that plan," Bonnie smiled brightly. "We both deserve it." Elena grinned back at her friend, yet the back of her mind was still knocking with the lingering longing for Damon. She could be a teenager. Elena could laugh; could cry; could move on; but that wouldn't change the situation. It wouldn't even reassure her or Damon that everything was okay. Her past was a cruel and serpent-like one. She was just waiting for the day it bit her in the wrist, allowing for its green venomous poison to seep into her bloodstream, turning her clear human veins into a polluted mess of a zombie.

* * *

><p>Damon roamed on the vacant road. It was too stereotypical for his liking. Kicking at the dust swirling lowly by his feet, he wanted to disappear. Damon's thoughts were locked, bolted, guarded; even from him. He heard Stefan's voice in his head…<p>

_It is a whole new world, _he had told Stefan. They had smiled, and life was well. They had been brothers then…

_We can explore it together, _his baby brother had replied. But now Damon was alone. Forced to discover a world he was beginning to thoroughly tire of.

Grinding his teeth heavily, Damon peered stonily at the road in front of him. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't. _Stefan is my past. Stefan is my past. Stefan is my past. _He kept reciting the words. He knew they would never be true in his heart, but Damon would at least dupe his mind into thinking that they were. He had to deaden himself; had to not care. Damon had lived without Stefan before, what made this any different?

Everything.

Damon exhaled hotly. He was not bred for this sort of weak sense of sadness and guilt. Damon Salvatore was a vampire; the elite and supernatural human.

The key word was human.

As powerful, strong, or stony as he could be, Damon was still human. In body, and in heart. Why did that have to be true? Could he not just transform into a bat and leave all memories of humanity and history? Apparently Bram Stoker had been mistaken. Damon continued walking blindly, yet his destination was clear: his mother's grave. She had loved him; had cared. Why now, was he damned to being left in the cold?

Elena.

Elena had loved him. After his bolting, Damon was sure she hated him; she had every right. Love, desire, need, and compulsion were all melded into one in his mind. Elena was the victim of all of those feelings. He loved her. Desired her. Needed her. But he was also compulsive with her; including in his rashness to leave because of the stains she bore of Katherine and dear Stefan.

_I love you. _He prayed she knew that. But he hadn't made contact with god in such a long while, Damon was not even sure the lord could hear his prayer. Would it not be delivered then? He figured so. He didn't even believe there was a god; there couldn't be, with all the evil in his life.

Lifting his weighty cobalt eyes, he saw the hotel in front of him. Rickety, wooden, old. And still in the realm of Mystic Falls. It was not the hotel's location or the hotel itself; but rather what lied behind the hotel:

The graveyard.

The patch of land that held his mother's disintegrated yet holy body. Damon Salvatore hadn't visited that in over two decades—he owed it to his mother and his own sanity to pay his respects.

Walking into the rundown hotel, he walked to the lone desk in the lobby. An old man stood behind the counter. Damon could hear the blood pumping tiredly and thickly in the man's veins, but he resisted what he would have later called 'a mercy kill'.

"Checking in?" The old man's raspy and gravelly voice asked numbly.

"Yeah," Damon replied distantly. Slapping a hundred dollar bill on the table, he tapped the rotting counter. He was too numb to compel the man to let him lodge for free; he was too cautious to use a credit card. Elena might be looking for him; or so he hoped.

"On-one night?" The man stuttered, staring at the bill in awe. Slowly reaching out for the sacred hundred, he lifted his eyes to see Damon nod. "Room 39," he said, giving Damon the key. The vampire took hold of the key ring, leaving the old man to have his love affair with the money. Twirling the key absentmindedly around his right pointer finger, he made his way slowly to his room. Damon still couldn't sleep at night; his night terrors plagued him torturously.

Unlocking the ancient door, he closed it behind him. Damon was so vacant; he could not even call upon his scapegoat anger.

* * *

><p>Katherine Pierce wrung her hands together, feeling her long black nails scrape against her cold palms. A horrid fire burned inside of her; Stefan was gone. Klaus was gone. The only man left now, was Damon.<p>

Tasty, tasty Damon. Katherine smirked at the thought of her dark Damon. Licking her lips, she knew he would be her next destination. Pretty, pretty, Damon.

Sweet satisfactory desire accumulated in her cells, and Mystic Falls was finding itself to be a very seductive location. Katherine's heart faltered momentarily when she remembered:

She couldn't freely go into Mystic Falls. And she certainly couldn't go and sweep Damon off of his feet; damn Elena. Always in the way, pestering her way to holy glory. Katherine needed someone on her side to ease the path to Mystic Falls for her.

Mind whirling, and desperation rising, Katherine finally turned to her past for answers. When Klaus had been hunting her down, there had been someone linked to him. Someone he would steal off into the night to see—it certainly was not a love; that was her department. It was not a sibling; Klaus had abandoned them long ago. Had it been a child perhaps? His child? He or she would want to avenge their father's death, right? Of course.

Closing her eyes tightly, Katherine tried to visualize Klaus' secret 'friend'. Katherine had met one girl, whom mildly resembled Klaus: Aefre. Opening her eyes, Katherine smirked. That had to be her. Aefre would help Katherine…. she hoped.

* * *

><p>Damon looked out of his window, staring longingly at the moonlit graveyard. A part of him wanted to be buried those six feet under. There, the pain would be gone. Damon would be free from all the obligations of his trying world. He'd see his brother again; tell Stefan he loved him, and that he was proud. Damon could hold his mother again; hear her calming lullabies and soft words. Oh, how Damon wanted death. But he still had to live—for Elena. If only in spirit and memory. But he had to live on, to see out Elena's fate. He owed that to her, to be her dark and silent guardian; one day, she'd understand.<p>

Suddenly, a figure glided through the graveyard. Her pink and gold and glittering body danced delicately. A small smirk grew on Damon's face. Not out of sexual satisfaction, but rather he felt like a boy again, with a motherly figure to guide his weary mind. Leaning his head on the window, his keen eyes caught the grave she was headed to:

His mother's.

* * *

><p>Chapter three is all over the place; I'm sorry about that. And I promise future chapters will be longer… I feel bad with these constant short chapters. This chapter took hours to write, but it'll only take you a few seconds to review, so please do so. It's very difficult to write when I don't know what my readers think.<p>

_Be good and review! _


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